So, today was the day, after a couple of months of paperwork and crossing of fingers, I went and picked up the keys to the house we’ll be calling home for the next few years. They’re not cheap, are they?
The best part of ?100,000 doesn’t get you much in this day and age, but at least it’s our own place we’re throwing money at and not some landlord’s bank account. I’ve not even gotten too excited about it yet, as with all the moving and stuff over the next week it’s going to be frantic, and that’s the part I hate most.
We have gotten a removals firm involved for the first time in our chequered history of moving home over the last few years, so that’ll make a pleasant change to hauling boxes of crap around by ourselves. That and not getting some poor schmo to help out for little or no reward. (Sorry Kieran)
I’m too jaded from our weekend in York to get excited at the moment, although when we went to the new house tonight and I got to wander around my own garden it did feel kind of cool. Not that I was thinking of gardening, of course, more looking at the patio and realising the skateboarding potential right in my own back yard. And this whole house thing is meant to be one of the steps to finally growing up, yuk yuk!
Worst part is we cant just petrol bomb this place and ride off into the sunset. No, we have to leave the leaky shack in a respectable condition to get our deposit back. It’d be almost worth the ?500 and the jail time to pull up a chair across the road and watch the flames lick around the roof that has been the bane of our dwelling for the last couple of years, but onwards and upwards, as the phrase goes.